Family Christmases
by Busman's Holiday
Summary: Ste and Brendan Christmas fic, Fluff. With all their messy family arrangements and histories, Ste and Brendan manage to spend several Christmases with their families over the years.


A/N: So sickly and festive it's like pigging a whole box of chocolates, followed by mince pies and a cake. I'm just warning you now: this is properly gag in your mouth fluffy and sweet. But it's Christmas, so there. Merry Christmas to all the wonderful people who read my stories.

::

:

**Family Christmases**

"That was your Cheryl," Ste says as he enters the room, panting a little, even though it's pretty obvious she will have been the one talking at light speed. Ste had answered the phone from the kitchen with Brendan too apathetic to move from the sofa and an old Spiderman film on the TV. Brendan had opinions on reboots – Ste had learned and didn't quite understand – like how 'that new fella' was too attractive to play a nerd bitten by a radioactive spider. Ste was sure the 'new' fella – as Brendan put it – had been spurting webs from his wrists for a good few years now.

"Oh yeah?" Brendan replies, merely an eyebrow raise in response, but the adverts interrupt Toby Maguire so he turns to give Ste attention when he flops down next to him.

"Asking us over for Christmas again." Ste twists a strand of tinsel that has looped across the top of the sofa where it's fallen from the tree. He sees Brendan's focus on it and grins a little, knowing how much pride his man takes in the perfectly decorated tree. Ste loves his 'gay habits' and it's a source of affectionate teasing between the two.

"What did you tell her?"

"Same as you said. We're just having a quiet one. Just us two."

Brendan nods. "Good."

"Bren, do you not think we should've gone?"

Brendan crosses his legs over in the opposite direction, pretends to be engrossed in a pine store advert offering seventy percent discounts. They had no need for a pre-Christmas bargain of a dining room table, not when it would be just the pair of them. "What, with her two running around screaming all day? I don't think so."

Ste scrunches his nose, cupping Brendan's scratchy chin. "But they love Uncle Brendan."

"You wanna be over there spending Christmas with someone else's kids and not your own?" Brendan's face darkens and the room chills of festive spirit when he thinks of the silence he receives from his sons. If his absence in their life hadn't been enough to lessen their fatherly love then a spell in prison for murder saw to that.

Ste shifts and Brendan feels that line drawn in the air between them. Ste _can_ see his kids at Christmas – has an open invitation to Amy's in fact – it's just that Brendan is categorically not invited.

"I want Christmas with you," Ste says. His eyes are imploring, flickering slightly in reflections from the fairy-lights. He rests his head in the warm, hairy v-shape of his chest, Brendan's heartbeat creating a comforting thud in his ear. "It doesn't matter where we are." He runs his fingers down Brendan's sides, feeling a sigh swell through him. "I'll go and see the kids on Christmas Eve, give them their presents. They'll love that."

Brendan puts his arm across Ste's back, holding him close. Ste knows Brendan would let him go alone to Amy's if that's what he wanted; Brendan feels the loss of the all the kids and carries it in new lines on his forehead. But Ste finds days apart from Brendan harder and harder these days and he can't face enforced goodwill with Amy pretending Brendan doesn't exist.

::: :::

Last year they had shared an uncomfortable dinner with Danny – who, like Ste, had been granted access to see his kids on Boxing Day with the girls spending the day with their mum – and it was a grim, quiet affair. On Boxing Day Ste had lovingly made piles of turkey sandwiches for Brendan, ridden him in the morning and left him setting up the new HD telly and headed to Amy's. Desperate to avoid rowing in front of the kids at Christmas, he'd bitten back most of his thoughts but snapped when she'd tried to remove the tags from his presents.

"No," he said, snatching them back from her. "_He_ bought them with me. _He_ loves them."

"He's a monster, Ste," Amy said, her new boyfriend looking up from the floor where he was helping Lucas put together a race track. Leah was almost thirteen now, old enough to spot when something was happening with her parents.

"Are these all for us, dad?" she asked, her cheeks plumping as she looked at his full arms.

"Well who else but the bestest kids in the world, eh?" Ste said, carrying them over to the floor and stepping away from Amy. "Now the ones in the glitter are yours - and Lucas - the green paper ones are for you. They're all from me and Daddy Brendan. He's sorry he can't be here to see you open 'em, but I said I'd get a video."

Ste looked at Amy and she shook her head, pushing the ripped tag into her pocket.

Leah studied the presents as she chose which one to start with. "Is Brendan visiting Declan and Padraig?"

Ste saw Amy blink at her daughter's impeccable knowledge and pronunciation. He hesitated, knowing the truth of the matter. "Yup, he's popped over to Ireland to see them and then he's going to come home and set up our new telly - hopefully!" He laughed and then encouraged the kids. "Go on then, start opening – I'm recording."

On leaving, at the door, carrying a present each for him and Brendan that Leah had had stashed in her room since October, Ste had turned to Amy.

"Be nice next year if you can get over yourself and invite Brendan," Ste said.

With her arms folded and a waft of wine, Amy scoffed. "Nothing's changed Ste. He's still a murderer. You might be able to live with him but he's not having a part in my children's lives."

"_Our_ children, Ames. Our. And in case you've forgotten –" Ste hushed his voice – "I'm a murderer, right? I murdered me mam. You gonna stop me from seeing them too, eh? Brendan's already a part of their lives. He's family. They love him, I love him and he feels the same way."

"His own children won't see him Ste, what does that tell you?"

Ste shook his head. "They don't know the real him. And neither do you if all you can say about him is that he's a monster. I'm a monster too and you still love me."

It didn't seem to sway her and they parted with a frosty kiss on the cheek. When Ste arrived home, he just felt as if he wanted Christmas done with. The day with Danny had been a disaster and he knew Brendan still found it difficult to welcome a father figure into Ste's life when in some ways he'd been that influence once. And although Danny would never admit it, Brendan – who had the effect on most people – made him feel uncomfortable. Even at Amy's, with his kids, he just felt…lonely.

When he entered the flat, the lights were dimmed and alongside the festive twinkling of lights the room warmed through with candles. Ste didn't even know they had candles. Brendan had dug out some from a forgotten kitchen drawer and emptied a box of mince pies onto a plate; there was an air of romance about it. Brendan, however, had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the newly set-up TV. Setting aside the presents from Leah, Ste crept carefully onto the sofa and feathered the lightest kisses imaginable onto Brendan's sleeping mouth.

He made ticklish huffs like a horse until his eyes opened.

Ste rested his hand onto Brendan's chest. "I love you," he said, catching his lips once again.

::: :::

Ste's up early on Christmas Eve before going to see the kids with the radio on, tunelessly garbling along to Wham's _Last Christmas_. He's not bothered with clothes as he loads the freshly made mince pies into the oven and his snug boxers are dusted in flour. They were one of last year's presents from Brendan, him fed up with Ste's shapeless and cheap underwear. Although once he'd put them on, they didn't stay on for long.

He stands at the cupboard hunting down the icing sugar when there's a warm, broad body behind him. He feels hands, soft from the bed, around his waist first and then a full erection pressing at his backside.

"Mornin'," Brendan says, lips and moustache heavy on his neck.

Once the icing sugar packet is out of the cupboard, Ste replies and secures Brendan's hands tighter around his waist. They're both barefoot together, shuffling and pressed tight.

"Cooking already?" Brendan asks, his lips smudging across Ste's hairline. Ste's all ticklish – always was, still is – and squirms a little, but the excitement of their body contact never grows old and he revels in it. He knows he must smell of sugar and spices.

"Making mince pies, aren't I?"

Brendan seems stumped to try and turn this into a flirtatious joke so his mouth opens against Ste's skin, scraping the edges of his teeth across it. It ends in kiss, the kind that takes soft pinches of skin and makes wet noises for Ste to groan against.

"How long do they take?" Brendan's hand flattens against Ste's growing mound. Ste can never stop being excited by Brendan's presence; his masculinity always makes him shiver.

"Twenty minutes," Ste says, unable to suppress a giggle at the implication even if it's the truth.

"Good." Brendan digs his thumbs into Ste's underwear and slides it down. The heating's on and the oven glows but Ste can feel his newly expose backside flutter with goosebumps. Ste steps out of his underwear and turns in Brendan's space, throwing his arms around his neck and sinking straight into an open-mouthed kiss.

Brendan places a finger onto Ste's lips, where they've just parted and puts his free hand between them, twitching his fingers against Ste's cock. Ste watches Brendan's mouth fall open, eyes teasingly wide, as Brendan plays Ste's cock with long strokes. Brendan's finger finds its way between Ste's lips and Ste's body shrinks slack against the cupboards, sucking the tip of Brendan's finger.

Brendan knocks the icing sugar over until the counter top until it spills its powdery mess across it. With amusement playing in his eyes, he takes a pinch and flicks it across Ste's torso, rubbing the chalky sugar over Ste's nipples.

"That's waste that is –" Ste says, stopping abruptly when Brendan's head stoops to lick him clean. His eyes gloss over as Brendan's lips pinch at his nipples, plucking them with his rough tongue. Ste leans back against the counter, privately begging for more and hoping his light sighs deliver enough of a hint.

When Brendan turns Ste back around, Ste's subtle hints are abandoned and he leans on his elbows, angled sweetly for Brendan's benefit. He grins at Brendan's old man noises, groaning all the way to the floor, resting on his knees. It's only Ste he'll kneel on cold kitchen tiles for and they both know it.

He's starts off sweet and gentle enough, treasuring slow kisses down the rump of Ste's arse. Ste's got used to the feather presence of Brendan's moustache and would feel bereft of it if it went. On occasion, when Brendan's too lazy to shave, he makes Ste raw with stubble marks and they get off on the rough way it burns and pinks him.

Ste feels Brendan grip his ankles and pull his feet apart, but Ste steadies himself with his weight against their Magnet cupboards. They made a real error getting shiny, glossy surfaces – if they're not covered in food then it's body parts printed on them. With a ponderous hum, Brendan warns Ste of his next move, extending the tip of his tongue along the dimples of Ste's back.

And down.

When, just for a second, Brendan's tongue dares to graze across his hole, Ste's whole body keens for more. Brendan tracks his tongue further down and stops, just long enough to frustrate Ste. His hands rest flat on Ste's cheeks and spreads them apart and Ste has his breath held and eyes squeezed shut. He's so tense that he wonders if he can keep quiet much longer.

Brendan's mouth closes in around Ste's hole, meeting its resistance with his silky tongue. Ste can feel his pulse hammer through every nerve just as Brendan tastes him. It's not more than a moment that passes, with Ste's damp forehead in the crook of his arm, until he's letting commands slip from his mouth.

"Touch me," he says and he doesn't have to clarify where or how because like always – Brendan knows.

Ste hears the pop of a saliva coated finger and waits, his nails scratching across the surface where he rolled out the pastry. Brendan's finger pushes and eases inside him and begins a rhythmic pattern that courses blood through every nerve, shooting straight to his dick.

They both know Brendan could lick and finger Ste until he's a mess on the floor but Ste's not about to be selfish about his pleasure, so he throws a look behind him – twisting around – and sees Brendan's cock unbearably straining inside his underwear. He smiles – one with his eyes lowered – and watches Brendan rise up to his feet. There's the soft snap of fabric as Brendan's boxers are pulled down and then his hands are on him – taking command of his hips.

Brendan's hand makes a tight sheath around Ste's dick, the head of his cock toying against Ste's opening. Ste cries, a pitch higher than he expected, and for that Brendan's rough at the wrist and pushes inside him.

"Uh - you're too good at this." Ste can barely get the words out and bites his own arm to muffle the tirade of moans that hit his chest like a wave. He claws at the back edge of the counter, where there's just enough grip to combat Brendan's thrusts. He's slow and deep at first, slipping into a shallower chaos when his body takes over from his brain. Each lurch presses Ste into the counter and he's grateful that it'll stop him from falling.

Ste's filled with a heat that makes his skin feel alight, like he's been struck with a flashing virus. His chest heaves and a knot of pleasure is twisting and blossoming inside him. He can hear Brendan's dying grunts behind him and feeling, hearing him so vulnerable is more intimate than Ste can explain. He balls a fist into his mouth – it still feels so illicit – and Brendan's desperate strokes leave Ste coming and fighting for consciousness.

Brendan's somehow wired, despite his damp drowsiness from sex, and he kisses Ste with ferocity, hands in his hair.

"You still make me crazy," he says, lapsing into a rare grin and nudges his nose against Ste's.

"I need a shower before them mince pies burn." Ste grimaces.

"Is that a hint for round two?" Brendan growls, his teeth snapping, giving Ste's backside a squeeze.

Ste shakes his head, pushing Brendan off, leaving his tease trailing as he heads to the bathroom. "You ain't got the energy, mate!"

:::

Three years on and there's an extra placemat at the table on Christmas day. It's not like that Christmas three years ago, where they shunned invites and ended the day, heavy from food, curled up on the sofa watching Christmas movies and dozing. This year there's a palpable tension, a giddiness of rebellion. Leah's fallen out with her mum and kicked up so much fuss, Amy has begrudging given in and let her have Christmas dinner at her dads'. Lucas is too young to get involved in teenage politics so stays at home, getting his mum's full and guilty attention.

They're expecting her to buzz the intercom at any minute, dropped off by Amy's latest squeeze, but before she does the phone rings.

"Hiya?" Ste says, the tension bubbling over into excitement. He's juggling the timings of the vegetables without a sweat.

"All right, Ste? It's Declan."

Ste responds enthusiastically, looking over to Brendan who hovers by the doorway. They've seen a little of Declan the last few years, ever since Ste arranged for them to visit Declan on his twenty-first. It's been gradual since then, with both father and son like stubborn strangers, but with Paddy's encouragement Declan is warming.

"Well me daughter's coming over for lunch in a bit. You got yourself a nice nut roast, have ya?"

"Orla's a top cook, you know?" Declan says, laughing and Ste can hardly believe he's grown up enough to be renting his own place with his girlfriend. "Can you pass us over to dad? I got some news. Tell him to put it on loud speaker."

Ste hands over the phone and mouths the instructions.

"Happy Christmas Deccy, how's it going?"

There's a brief pause on the phone and then a little nervous laughter, before they can hear Orla encouraging him. "We've got some good news Da and I wanted to ring you before Paddy shoots his mouth off or you read it on Facebook." Ste can see Brendan open his mouth about to say he can't get the hang of Facebook until it doesn't matter anymore because Declan is speaking again. "Da, you're gonna be a granddad."

Ste shrieks with excitement and watches the strong and silent Brendan Brady break out into a wide smile as he congratulates the pair on their good news. Ste's full of questions, but he laces his fingers through Brendan's and lets him do the talking. When the buzzer for the door goes, he leaves Brendan talking to the happy couple and goes to greet Leah.

She throws her arms around him, dumping her bag of presents on the floor.

"Where's…didn't he drop you off?" Ste can't remember the name of Amy's new fella. He's stopped bothering to learn them these days.

Leah frowns. "Ugh. I told him I was perfectly capable to ring on the doorbell without his help. I don't like him."

"Yeah, alright," Ste says, rolling his eyes. He puts his hands on his hips, like he feels he should. "What's all this attitude you've been giving your mam?"

She sighs, avoiding his eye contact. "Happy Christmas to you an'all Dad."

"Leah…", Ste warns.

They're interrupted by Brendan's presence in the hallway. "Hey princess!" She charges across the room to him and it's like she's six again, squeezing him tightly even though she's too old now for him to pick up and carry. Ste shakes his head and is about to chastise Brendan until he sees the joy in the scene before him and can't bear to ruin Christmas.

:::

"Granddad," Ste says, musing on the title. He runs his fingers through Brendan's greying chest hair. "Suits ya."

Brendan murmurs a little, trickling his touch at the back of Ste's head. Ste dropped Leah home at eight and Amy was subdued when he arrived. Without her daughter being there on Christmas day, it had made her attitude shift a little. For the first time in all their years together, Amy extended her invitation to include Brendan. Ste, wanting the upper hand, had thanked her but suggested they all come over to the flat next year. To his surprise, she agreed.

Ste's warm and soppy with Christmas drinks inside him. "I love us being a proper family," he says. He feels his eyes water but he disguises it and blinks them away. Brendan's hand comes up to touch his cheek and they kiss.

They stay in silence for a moment just lying there. "Granddad. I'm too young," Brendan says, putting his hands behind his head.

Ste's head lifts up from Brendan's chest. "I know what'll make you feel young again…"

"Oh yeah?"

Ste knees his way, ungainly, until he's on top of Brendan. His chest is splattered in goosebumps from the cold now that he's separated their bodies, but he hovers above, his bottom lip blood-full and protruding. He licks his lips slowly – deliberately.

"One last Christmas present," he says, eyes glittering. He can see Brendan's erection heaving under the bed sheet and he moulds his hands around it. He feels Brendan trying to shift his hips and nudge the covers down, but Ste turns him on like this – all saucy and dominating.

Brendan's still covered by cotton but Ste runs his lips and then tongue across the fabric that conceals his cock. He can smell the heat of him and if it wasn't all about the game, he'd be taking him root to tip in a matter of moments.

He removes his own underwear, unsure as to why he's still dressed, as if in a striptease for Brendan. He inches the boxer shorts down, revealing new flashes of flesh, and lights up at Brendan's lustful fixation when he's fully naked.

Ste whips off the bed sheet and staggers down the bed on palms and knees until he's hanging with an open and loose mouth right above Brendan's cock. He toys with Brendan's desire, letting him see the pink of his glistening tongue – extending it and pulling it back into his mouth with a curl. They both know there's no point if Brendan begs, Ste plays his own games.

His hands rake down Brendan's torso and just before Brendan's about to growl, Ste's tongue circles the head of Brendan's cock, his eyes open and daring. He makes the head of him wet, humming appreciatively as he does. Ste puts his mouth around him, letting his eyes slip closed and feeling one of Brendan's hands knot into the back of his hair. He can't imagine happier Christmases than the ones he keeps having.

Ste's lips are slick as they glide up and down his shaft. It's like a flickering screen in front of him as his eyes flutter open and shut, seeing Brendan's chest rise and fall erratically. Brendan's aching pulse is a drumming command to his rhythm and his breaths come in hot bursts onto Brendan's flesh. The pressure of Brendan's hand doesn't stop him; he tongues against every tremble, saliva leaking down his chin. Brendan's groans fill the room like a storm has escaped into their bedroom and Ste lets the cum lubricate his final sucks, pulling every last cry from Brendan that he can. He likes seeing him exactly like this. And his. Forever his. He knows, without any uncertainty, that they are meant to be and always have been.

Ste lays into his warmth, nudging their mouths apart. He thinks he's never been happier.

:::

Four years have passed. Their Christmases have fallen into a comfortable pattern, besides the one year they spent the day with Ste's sisters and Brendan swore never again. Next year they plan to go away just the two of them; Ste's two are too old for the magic of Christmas even if their dad hasn't lost his childish glee. Dublin's always theirs before Christmas – it feels right.

On the twentieth of December, after a night in their usual hotel – even if it's beyond its best they're expected in the Director's Suite every year – they drive to meet Declan. He towers over Brendan but he doesn't quite resemble his dad the way Paddy does now. Both the boys know the truth about what happened to their grandfather. And they know a watered down version of their father's childhood. It was the last demon to go – telling the boys. And Ste knows, because Declan opened up to him, that he carries an immense guilt with him for the way his relationship with Brendan dissolved.

"You didn't know. He couldn't tell you," Ste had said, soothing him as he cried.

"But he's my da. I should have realised something made him the way he is. I shouldn'ta shut him out."

They're both very quiet and closed men, Ste notices this even more when they greet every Christmas, but with Declan's little girl, Lizzie, bonding them closer – he sees a change.

Ste's not even forty yet, but Declan and Orla have encouraged Lizzie to call Ste 'Granddad' too, although somehow she's made it sound more like Grandy. But then he quite likes that: Grandy and Grandda.

Orla and Declan have some last minute secret shopping to do, so Ste and Brendan take Lizzie to see the mall Santa and Ste wonders if he's more excited than her. Her little gloved hand is cocooned in Grandda's.

"Where do you think we're going, Lizzie?" Ste asks as they follow a trail of painted on footprints.

"To join a long queue," Brendan says, grumbling at the thought. Ste hits him on the shoulder.

Lizzie stands by a big decorative sign and helps her sound out the word, running his finger under it like he sometimes needs to do himself. As Lizzie works it out, her face widens in bright eyed excitement and Brendan reaches over to squeeze Ste's shoulder. The situation is almost as surreal as a bearded man travelling by reindeer.

Ste greets one of the elves and encourages Brendan and Lizzie to have a photo with the teenager reluctantly dressed up in pointy ears and stripy tights. He won't let up until she's joined in with his "Say mince pies!" joke.

His facial expression might say otherwise but Ste knows Brendan loves the glittery tackiness of Christmas, even as they're queuing. Ste leaves Brendan to carry Lizzie for a bit – her chubby fingers stroking his greying moustache – whilst Ste heads to the elves' hut to do the all-important swapping of information.

The head elf, equally uncheerful, gives him a sticker with their queue number on.

"What's the name of the child?"

"Lizzie Brady."

"Age?"

"Three." He takes a quick look at the form she is filling in – Santa's prompt sheet. "Parents are Orla and Declan."

The head elf gives him a brief glare under the make-up. "Anyone else you want mentioned?"

"Me and my husband: Grandy Ste and Grandda Brendan."

The elf looks up at him, her drawn on eyebrows jerk.

"What, you never 'eard of gay granddads before?" Ste feels like he's raising his voice, so he adds in quickly and a bit more hushed. "Oh and you better add Granny Eileen in somewhere. I'll never hear the end of it otherwise."

"Twenty euros," she says, pointing to the jar. "Or ten if you don't want a present. Extra five for a photo."

"Twenty five euros?!" Ste says, wishing Brendan had been the one sorting all this. They'd reduce the price for him no question. He shoves the notes in the jar. "Yeah and a Happy Christmas to you too, gnome."

Lizzie's a bit terrified of Santa when their moment comes and Brendan has to persuade (gently threaten) the man to let Lizzie stroke his moustache like she does with his. In the end she plucks up enough courage to stand next to him rather than join him in the sleigh. Ste's a little in awe of the grotto set up and he teases Brendan that it puts his decorations to shame; Brendan's in a mood with him for saying that until Santa's scripted speech about Lizzie's family – including (Santa reads it twice to make sure and then looks to them and nods to himself) Grandda Brendan and Grandy Ste – makes Brendan clear his throat to avoid any emotion that itches his eyes.

Lizzie promises to go to bed extra early on Christmas Eve and leave out carrots for the reindeer and then Brendan carries her out of the grotto, begrudgingly saying goodbye to Santa when Ste prompts him to. Ste is cheeky and takes a photo of him and Santa and texts it to his own kids saying: _Putting in a gd word for u xx_ and gets one back after five minutes from Lucas: _Dad ur so cringe_.

:::

On the flight back to England, Ste presents Brendan with a gift. It's not wrapped because he didn't have the time. Brendan weighs the heavy carrier bag in his hands after lifting his arm from around Ste. It's too cramped to snuggle up on a flight but it's been a long day and their tired happiness stops them from caring about any looks they get.

It's a mug. A superman one that says World's Best Granddad on it and has a G emblem rather than an S. It'd be a strange present for anyone else, but for Brendan it means more than he'll ever vocalise.

"I can't take all the credit," Ste says as Brendan kisses his forehead. "Lizzie pointed at it when you were getting us hot chocolates. So it's a joint present." Ste tilts up his head until their mouths meet. He feels Brendan smile against him. "Happy Christmas, Bren."


End file.
